


You're My Crowning Achievement (whether you like it or not)

by Atqueinstupracaballum



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins, Based more on the comics, Creepy mad scientist Medic is creepy, God Complex, M/M, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, Stabbing, Stalking, but that's y'alls problem now, there is a fairly large possibility that this kinda sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29193948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqueinstupracaballum/pseuds/Atqueinstupracaballum
Summary: The German nudged a step back, smiling and laughing, hands raising up for show."Herr Mundy, Herr Mundy, come now, you've alvays been a sensible fellow-""Don't start that ya bloody traitor! Start talking- and I mean really talking, none of this flapping yer gums in circles, or this Machete's going so far up your ass that it'll come outta ya throat."
Relationships: Medic/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	You're My Crowning Achievement (whether you like it or not)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw that I was beginning to take my writing a little too seriously, toeing dangerously close to perfectionism, so I wrote some utter lazy nonsense for my new obsession to snap myself out of it. I adore the comics, they were what sucked me into TF2 in the first place, and now here we are...with whatever the hell this is. 
> 
> I'll warn that this is my first time writing these characters and it may show, apologies if anything is out of character/ the dialogue and accents are wonky. I tried. Kinda.

That bastard was following him...  
At first, it seemed incidental, though still bothersome. Any professional knew when it was time to hit the road and change their name...But that egotistical maniac of a medicine man -though very little of what he did consisted of medicine- had never been much of a professional. Likewise, he was just about the last person the sniper wanted to see at this point in his life, after everything.  
But no.  
'Incidental' could only account for so many instances. It could only reach so far...and that reach did not nearly cover what was amuck here.  
He would have to give it to him, Ludwig was as good as any spy. But an enemy is an enemy, and Mundy had based his whole career around spotting threats and eliminating them.  
The medical man became like a maddening shadow, lurking in the corner of his eye, sometimes daring to shift into more blatant positions in front of him, yet never bucking up and announcing himself or his purpose. Perhaps that was the worst of it, the fact that he was always watching...only watching. Watching from shadowy alleyways, or over the top of his newspaper on a bench, or just behind the corner of a shop, or from a window.  
A few times Mundy had been tempted to call it hallucinations, that the bloody job of assassination was finally cracking the hard cask of his mind, or that the ordeal with the man had affected him more than he thought. But no, he couldn't quite believe that theory. This was something far, far worse. He could feel it as clearly as his own heartbeat.  
He was being stalked.  
There was no way around it, that simply was the case. Ludwig, that old bastard of a medic, was stalking him.  
Well, Mundy supposed to himself, that wouldn't do at all.

The day began as it normally did. Mundy woke to the sunrise washing his van a pinkish, orange tint. With groans and grumbles he dragged himself up, hitting his face with water and beelining to the small kitchen, slapping something that looked to be breakfast together and swigging it down with plenty of tar black coffee.  
Today he had no work to go to, having claimed a family emergency, which he considered only half a lie. He was his own family now that ma and pap were gone and he was having an emergency.  
Like usual he went about his business nonetheless, throwing on his typical garb and gathering his satchel of weapons. He'd not be needing the old sniper rifle today, but took it nonetheless, a good luck charm if anything else.  
The moment he exited his van he could feel it. Years of being on edge trained him to know the sensation and trust it. It was like a hook in his belly, not yanking, just a tug to warn him. _Someones watching..._  
Good, he kept it moving, let _him_ watch, and let _him_ follow.  
For the first few minutes he followed the path of his daily commute, weaving through the dusty towns equally dusty streets, moving quickly, but not too quickly. It was a leisurely pace for a leisurely stroll, until he turned a new corner.  
He wished he could see the look on his stalker's face in that moment. Confusion, a little wrinkle of that high slightly wrinkled brow, a tug of his lips downwards, maybe just a touch of annoyance. The man had always had a gift for melodrama.  
Sniper pushed on, meandering down the new street, carrying on as if he were merely taking a new route to the base.  
Street after street passed him by, some shops, some homes, a school, the mill, and with each few streets he would turn, then turn again, and again, leading his unwanted shadow on until the roads and alleys became more and more desolated and secluded.  
At last, Sniper arrived to a perfect looking alleyway, not a soul in sight.  
"Ey wanka, ya can come on out now." He called loudly, not turning, instead sneaking a hand to grasp the hilt of his machete just in case.  
"Ah...I figured as such," there it was, that voice, that voice he had had no interest in hearing again. Now he did turn, still not brandishing his weapon, keeping it out of sight. Ludwig appeared from the shadows fluidly, maddeningly collected as he stepped into what light their secluded corner offered. Mundy felt the blood rushing through his veins boil, his heart beating just a little faster. "Vhat gave me avay, Herr Mundy? I vill endeavor, in ze future, not to commit ze same error."  
"There ain't going to be a 'future', ya sick son of a bitch." He figured this was a good as time as any to brandish his weapon, so the medic knew he meant business. He aimed the blade confidently at Medic's throat, making it clear that he wouldn't have one if he didn't fess up. "Why the hell are ya following me." The German nudged a step back, smiling and laughing, hands raising up for show.  
"Herr Mundy, Herr Mundy, come now, you've alvays been a sensible fellow-"  
"Don't start that ya bloody traitor! Start talking- and I mean really talking, none of this flapping yer gums in circles, or this Machete's going so far up your ass that it'll come outta ya throat."  
"My, so passionate, but I assure you my reason for stalking you so perversely has a perfectly reasonable explanation, if you'll kindly not commit atrocities to my person first."  
The request was clear enough, and slowly, without one bit of trust for the German, he lowered the blade, holding it still tightly at his side.  
"Thank you, mein friend-"  
"We ain't friends mate, not even close." Sniper spat back, teeth gritting and patience quickly failing him.  
"Oh I disagree entirely, I see you and me as rather close friends. Ve've both done one another great services, after all!"  
"What-" then it dawned on him. Medic smiled an awful smile, like a cat catching a mouse.  
"You remember now, don't you-"  
"Yea, alright, I remember your sick little song and dance, your 'medical miracle', whatever ya wanna call it. What's that got to do with anything!" He snapped, a bad feeling cradled in his guts.  
"You under cut me!" Declared Ludwig, clearly offended. "It vas not merely a song or dance, in fact, zere vas only minimal tribal incantation songs involved. A medical miracle indeed, zough, you are correct in zhat! My medical miracle. You, Hurr Mundy, you are my magma opus. I did viz you vhat no one zus far in human history has ever done, nigh, nigh, vhat even Gods rarely do! I defied modern medicine!" The downright manic glow in his eyes was terrifying, endless, and as he spoke he was nearing Mundy, cornering him, over shadowing him...and for a moment Mundy was to taken aback to do anything about it. His boots were filled with cement, his mouth sandpaper as the medic gripped him by his shoulders, smiling like the devil. "Don't you see it Mundy, _I am your god-_ "  
Terror wrenched the very core of his being.  
"Mate..." He growled, and a sort of odd calm seemed to possess the medic. He patted both of his shoulders, stepping away from Mundy, who took liberty's startling backwards.  
"Oh excuse me, my passions...got avay from me for a moment." He cleared his throat, cat cool and nearly amiable as he readjusted his stance. "Allow me to clarify, to explain my reasoning. For zis, ve need context...er," he leaned closer to Mundy, to the others discomfort. "Vell, you see, my previous employer vas not so pleased with my genius accomplishments, he had anticipated zat you vould have stayed dead after your randevou with his men. He had no vision, no appreciation for my overwhelming intellect, nor my skills as a medical man, none of zat whatsoever. I zink he vas jealous, for vich I fault him not. In any case, he vants me dead, and I am sure your avare how little my precious employers zink of me. Look at me now, Hurr Mundy, look at my poor soul and understand zat I have nothing. Now it is only me, Archimedes and his friends, and ze money I laundered vile heading out the door. Do you know, Hurr Mundy, what it is to be a lone man vith 30 dove mouths to feed every night and day? Do you? Well, ze worst of it is zis. Companies built on ze pillars of heinous crime and general moral ineptitude are hard to come by zese days. No one vill take me in, fund my research, AND hide my crimes against humanity from prying government officials. It is entirely absurd!" The man looked properly in the throes of misery, and sniper could have almost pitied him if he was any other bastard on the planet. "My dear Bushman, I have nothing of my former glories, nothing of my great experiments, or so I zought, zen I restumbled upon you..." He was far to close to Sniper now, once more, this time with a different...somehow more disturbing air to him. Tenderness softened his expression, smoothed the worry lines on his face, and Ludwig's bright blue eyes were overflowing with something that Mundy did not want to name.  
He felt the cold brick of the alley against his back, cornered, but he still had his knife...Suddenly large, warm hands were cupping his face, Ludwig brought himself close, to close, nearly pressing chest to chest as he spoke again: "You. My greatest achievement. My nature defying bushman. I still have you. Any sane man in my position vould be back in Europe by now, I've got a bounty on my head after all I've done, to our old team or othervise. But here I am, and I am here for you...You call it stalking, I call it careful observation of a most brilliant subject-" they were practically sharing breaths now, and that, sniper decided, was too much.  
It all happened so quickly.  
One moment he was frozen, too horrified to take control of his vessel once more, then Medic was crying out in pain and his machete was buried in the older German's shoulder.  
He took his chance, took the opening the injury had given him, and ran.  
He ran until his legs turned to mush under him, until his lungs were aching and his heart pounded like a war drum in his head, until he saw the sweet, sweet seclusion of his van.  
The minute he was inside and everything was locked and barred he collapsed onto the one chair he had.  
"bloody fuckin' hell..." He muttered, throwing his glasses to the side and rubbing at his eyes. All of what had just taken place ran on repeat in his head.  
A creeping sort of terror lingered in his bones as he sat. He was used to feeling unsafe, he was an assassin for god's sake! Yet this was different, this was more personal.  
**_I am your god!_**  
Nope.  
No.  
He rose, quick to throw himself into the driver's seat of the van, even quicker to jam the key into the transmission and gun it.  
State and local officials had long since given up enforcing road laws in this small town and around it, which was good, considering Mundy was going a healthy 80-90 miles per hour. The act of rolling through empty desert allowed him to work on settling his askew thoughts, as well as dismantle some of the paranoia from off his back.  
No one was here.  
Medic was back in the town. Hell, he may still be bleeding out in that dingy, dark hallway...Mundy found himself lingering on that, imagining it, and liking it. Out here, it was only him, his guns, his van, and whatever wildlife decided to trifle with him. He preferred it like that, always had, presumably always would. More importantly, there was no egomaniac German fawning over him like a science fair project...A hundred thousand different ideas came to him about what to do. Obviously, Ludwig was going to have to meet his maker if he survived the stabbing, which Mundy was unhappily convinced that he must have.  
Killing one man was nothing, really, he was paid to do it every day. But this was different.  
The medic wasn't just another target handed down to him by higher-ups, this wasn't just a job Miss Pauline had sent him on. This was one of their own, or rather, had been one of their own before the bastard had run off with an opposing group of assassins because 'extravagant animal's organs don't just crawl out of black-market sellers pockets into my patient's body cavities!' He would do anything for funding to those awful experiments and bizarre surgeries, anything. Sniper and Spy had been set to the task of retrieving the defective medical man and bringing him back to corporate, where many displeased bosses were waiting for him.  
To say the least, things had not gone to plan.  
Ludwig wasn't stupid, he knew all of the team's tricks, had watched them all use them countless times. He knew how they all fought, how they killed, and more importantly, he knew their weaknesses.  
Likewise, he had watched the man defy death more than once, survive things that no human should have ever survived...Once or twice it looked like he had died during particularly bad assignments, yet there he was, time and again still up and kicking. He was like a cockroach or a bloodstain on a white sheet.  
Mundy would have to surprise him, would have to do something completely out of the ordinary, and he would have to work extra hard to assure the man was thoroughly, completely, irrevocably dead...  
He gave a harsh sigh as he slammed the breaks, stopping his van and parking. He had no clue where he was, at this point, nor did he particularly care as he got up. Pain pounded between his eyes, he'd worked himself into a headache...Without any fanfare he dragged himself back into his living compartments, locking and barring the door, throwing his hat off and collapsing on his bed, clothes and all.  
For awhile he laid there, face down, motionless, unable to sleep but unable equally to get up and do anything. Exhausted. Annoyed...So many things, really, until all those emotions blended into a constant static.

  
Eventually, he did doze off, apparently, because when he awoke it was much darker.  
Everything was warm and fuzzy, that was what he noted first. He blinked heavy eyelids awake, peering into the dark, seeing his van roof covering him as always...Yet something felt wrong, deep down. The room seemed to spin, just a little, and his limbs were made of hot honey.  
Someone was speaking, yet the words were like water, streaming past him, through him...He focused, tried to at least, through all the cotton balls in his head.  
"...stubborn zing you are. I vas complimenting you, you know, and vat do you do? You stab me!" there was a tsking sound. "I suggest you spend less money on beer and more on manners, mein friend." Something hot and heavy was laying on his hip...something was near him...fondling him...snuggling him? He grunted in displeasure, trying to squirm away on instinct. "Ah, are you avake?" the snipers face was turned to the side to his disgruntlement, large gloved fingers gripping his chin as he blearily observed something that looked like a face...Slowly the dots were connecting together, forming a larger realization.  
Ludwig.  
It was Ludwig that was fondling him, Ludwig who was observing him and speaking to him. "You feel good, yes? I gave you enough tranquilizer to incapacitate a cow. Such a feisty fellow you are! You did quite ze number on me, Mundy, quite ze number indeed. But you shall not escape me, if zat vas your aim..." he was closer, body molding against the snipers side, adhering to him. "I said it once, I shall say it again. You're all I have now, my magnum opus, my impossible, incredible creation..." as medic spoke his hand lifted from Mundy's hip and began to tenderly trace up his chest, following the ugly scars stitched from breast bone to sternum. "You're mine. All ve have is one another, I've decided zis for us. A good decision, don't you zink? Oh! ze birds, how could I forget, it is us and ze birds now, Herr Sniper, and together I shall have such a grand time!"  
Sniper felt himself falling back into unconsciousness and prayed that he would awake alone, to find that all of this was some deranged dream, or that he would not awake at all.


End file.
